


Birds of a Feather

by Alexander_L



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Drama, Bisexual Sylvain Jose Gautier, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rare Pairings, The Garreg Mach Chess Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_L/pseuds/Alexander_L
Summary: Every two weeks, Sylvain, Claude and Hubert convene at a local tavern for a night of strategy games and liquor. But one night they are joined by the mysterious newcomer Yuri Leclerc, whose wits and wiles immediately fascinate Sylvain. As the night goes on and games lead to drinks that lead to adventures, Sylvain learns more and more about Yuri until in a moment of honesty they find common ground at last and the chess club gains a new purpose.Written for the 2020 Ultra Rare Pair Big Bang
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Hubert von Vestra (background), Sylvain Jose Gautier/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 23
Kudos: 59
Collections: 2020 Ultra Rarepair Big Bang





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> [Y'ALL! DEMILEAF HAS CREATED THE MOST PHENOMENAL ART!](https://twitter.com/demileaf_/status/1300590625570476032)  
> Check it out on Twitter and give her lots of love for bringing the story and characters to life! I am incredibly honored to have worked with her. She is a delightful, talented human being and her art is beautiful.

> The bar, a little after midnight:

Sylvain leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter, and thought with profound appreciation, _Damn._

He was at the point where all the whiskey had made the lavender eyes staring back into his the kind of beautiful that he was tempted to write poetry about. _Clouds across the night sky… something something… cold winter dawns…_ What rhymed with dawn again? All he could think of was _yawn_.

There was a poem there for sure but on the other hand, Yuri Leclerc seemed like the kind of man who would not be impressed if the finest playwright in Enbarr wrote him a whole fucking opera.

“You okay there, friend?” Yuri asked, swirling the dregs of his cocktail around in the glass and studying him with obvious amusement.

Sylvain was a shit poet. He was aware of this. But fortune favored the bold and he had won many an unlikely conquest with flowery words. So he sat up straighter, blinked several times to reassure himself he was still clever drunk and not stupid drunk, and prepared to knock Yuri’s socks off with something eloquent.

“Your eyes,” he said.

“My eyes?” Yuri prodded when Sylvain paused for a full thirty seconds to choose between the winter dawn metaphor and the galaxy metaphor. 

Or maybe he should go with something about flowers? _No flowers,_ he reminded himself. _Flowers are cliché._

“They’re pretty,” he continued and panicked, knowing he needed to round out the compliment better. “Really pretty.”

_Oh Seiros. Oh fuck._

Sylvain was stupid drunk.

  
  


> The private room of the tavern, the start of the evening:

Sylvain sat down, leaned his elbows on the card table, took a deep breath to clear his head, and waited for the others to arrive. 

He always looked forward to the Garreg Mock Battle of Wits, enjoying both its secrecy and its genuine good fun. Every two weeks he would sneak out of the monastery grounds and down to the nearby village to the Knight Cap tavern to reserve a room for them ahead of time.

The tavern itself was a mess of ale-stained tables that were usually shoved aside to make space for the townsfolk to dance. And Sylvain would use the word _dance_ only in an ironic sense because it was a pretty graceless affair, fueled by cheap booze and cacophonous music. Still, he loved the merry atmosphere of the place and the fact that it was dimly-lit and crowded enough to afford him some anonymity whenever he came here.

After he managed to bribe the tavern-owner to not breathe a word of his excursions to Seteth, the Knight Cap became one of Sylvain’s favorite places. 

Tonight, things started off following the same pattern they always did. Hubert materialized suddenly from a warp spell, sat down, pulled a book from his coat pocket and proceeded to ignore Sylvain and read. The only words he uttered were to politely order a mug of a kind of dark, smoky ale he liked from the barmaid.

“What’s new, Hubie?” Sylvain asked.

Hubert did not even waste a glare on him. He just kept reading.

 _What does Claude see in him?_ Sylvain wondered, taking a drink of his beer and studying Hubert to try to shed light on the mystery that neither science nor philosophy could explain. He gave up after a while and hummed a tune to himself, tapping his fingers on the table because it was hilarious to watch how the combination of the two annoying sounds made Hubert's eye start twitching.

They were both eager for Claude to arrive, but he was often late. He would sweep into the room as if blown in on a sharp breeze, immediately talking, immediately smiling and drawing even Hubert into the conversation. Sylvain loved it. He’d become resigned over the years to his fate as The Social One in his childhood group of friends, since Dimitri couldn’t carry a conversation, Felix wouldn’t and Ingrid just shouldn’t, given her tendency towards arguing. If peace was to be kept and fun was to be had, it was up to Sylvain to make it happen. Claude relieved that burden from his shoulders and Sylvain was grateful to hand it off to him.

As the sound of familiar footsteps came from the hall, Hubert glanced up at the door with the relief of a man about to be saved from the executioner’s axe. And he actually smiled as Claude burst in. But immediately, Hubert stiffened and the fleeting smile vanished because this time Claude wasn’t alone.

Their group had a strict rule about no extra members, unanimously instated after Claude brought Hilda along once and she almost got them kicked out of the bar for throwing fists. Sylvain was very fond of the memory of him and Claude watching with glee as Hilda punched the lights out of some bastard who harassed her and stood victoriously over his unconscious body while every woman in the bar chanted, _“Hilda! Hilda!”_ But since it had jeopardized their welcome at the Knight Cap, they’d had to make the rule.

And yet sauntering in behind Claude in heeled boots that clicked on the wooden floor came a stranger.

Hubert gave the stranger a suspicious once-over before looking at Claude and saying, “We agreed on no guests.”

“What we said is that we would limit our little tournaments to one representative per house,” Claude replied. “Yuri is here to represent the Ashen Wolves, as is only fair.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows.

He had heard of Yuri Leclerc, the leader of the newly discovered fourth house. Ashe described him as “ _mysterious,”_ and Dimitri had said, _“They call him the Savage Mockingbird, but I think he has a good heart.”_ Hilda had offered him the most information, saying, _“Oh goddess, he looks like a full course meal! And if he ever let me, I would take those skinny, sexy legs of his, wrap them around my neck and-”_ until, to Sylvain’s disappointment, she had been cut off by Professor Byleth flinging a textbook at them for whispering during lecture in the classroom. Ever since, Sylvain had been wildly curious to form his own opinion.

Yuri held himself with an aloof manner but there was a lively, analytical glint in his eyes that Sylvain found intriguing. His looks were unique and captivating too – the silky lavender hair, dramatic eye shadow and graceful, tough body of a sword dancer. 

“You’re lucky I won the coin flip with Balthus. He wanted to join as our house representative and he would have talked you all into high-stakes betting and cleaned you out,” Yuri said with a sly smile, sitting down next to Hubert, completely unconcerned with the unwelcoming aura emanating from him.

“Sylvain Gautier,” Sylvain said quickly, giving Yuri his most charming smile and holding out his hand. “I’m delighted to finally meet you.”

“Of course,” Yuri replied, barely giving him a glance as he shook his hand. He picked up Hubert’s mug of ale and took a sip nonchalantly.

For a terrifying second, Sylvain was certain Hubert would hex him and walk away. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hubert settled for an icy glare. As Hubert ordered another mug to replace his stolen one and Claude asked for a glass of water, Sylvain made a second valiant attempt to get Yuri’s attention.

“If you’re more of a hard liquor person, I can order us a bottle,” he said.

“I am, thank you. But I will order it myself. This ale is atrocious,” Yuri answered, but polished off the mug anyways. The way he was deliberately pushing Hubert’s buttons made Sylvain smile. He felt like he finally had backup. 

Yuri waved over the barmaid, ordered a bottle of whiskey, and gave her a wink and a generous tip.

“So, friends,” Yuri said, turning back to them, “what are we playing tonight?”

“I brought something special for just this occasion,” Claude answered. It was his week to choose the game and he produced a deck of cards from his pocket with a flourish.

“These are from Brigid,” Hubert noticed, taking them and looking over the foreign designs on the cards.

“Indeed. Petra lent them to me. It’s a game none of us have ever played before so none of us will have an advantage. It will be a good honest introduction for our newest member.”

"I thought you liked the odds to be stacked in your favor. Isn't that the point of all your schemes?" Hubert asked Claude, the faintest hint of a smile lurking around the corner of his lips.

"Sure, but tonight I'm on my best behavior."

"Oh don't hold back on my account," Yuri said. He took the whiskey bottle from the barmaid with a grateful nod then asked the others, "Shots anyone?" 

Without waiting for a response, he poured one for each of them. Sylvain downed his without a second’s hesitation, as did Yuri. Even Hubert tossed his back while he studied the sheet of paper that Petra had written down the rules for the game on. Claude, however, didn’t touch his and slid it over to Hubert instead, who gave him a grateful nod and drank it.

“It’s not poisoned,” Yuri said, flashing Claude a smile.

“Oh I’ve built up an immunity to most poisons,” Claude replied nonchalantly. “I’m just not much of a drinker.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Alright, gentlemen, Sylvain,” Hubert said, and Sylvain shot him a look. “This appears to be the kind of game that is easy to learn but tricky to master. I suggest we play a practice round first.”

He dealt out the cards but Claude said, “Just a minute. It gets better. Did you bring dice?”

“Yeah, but isn’t this a card game?” Sylvain asked.

Claude placed another piece of paper on the table along with a set of regular playing cards. “Petra plays this game a lot with Ferdinand and Dorothea and they have melded it with some game Ferdie grew up playing in Aegir-”

“Oh dear gods,” Hubert muttered.

“-and added a whole new layer of convoluted rules to it,” Claude continued, “that makes it even more fun.”

“That imbecile is terrible at strategy games,” Hubert pointed out.

“Whether or not that’s the case, he’s great at designing rules. He’ll be a good legislator someday,” Claude said.

“Perish the thought.”

“This does make it more interesting,” Yuri cut in, examining the extra sheet of rules. “Good thing I brought some dice along.”

As Claude and Hubert puzzled over one of the instructions, Sylvain kept quiet, knowing better than to interrupt the two of them when they got going. Instead he watched Yuri out of the corner of his eye while pretending to shuffle through the cards. And it did not escape him that Yuri smiled a small, secret smile to himself as he pulled a handful of dice out of his pocket.

 _That sly bastard,_ Sylvain thought and realized that game night just got a hell of a lot more fun.

  
  


> The rooftop, around two o’clock when Sylvain was no longer stupid-drunk:

“How about this?” Sylvain asked Yuri, lounging on the rooftop beside him and staring up at the stars. He was glad he didn’t attempt to make clumsy metaphors earlier about Yuri’s eyes looking like the faint ribbon of cloud that appeared in the night sky on clear nights like this. Yuri was a far more beautiful phenomenon. “You answer a question and I won’t tell Claude and Hubert about your suspicious dice and cheating ways.”

“Blackmail?” Yuri said. “Bold choice. I can respect that. Fine. What’s your question?”

Sylvain considered his options, which ranged from poking into some of the mysteries of Abyss and Yuri’s generally shady dealings to using the opportunity to ask him out now that he felt he was gaining a little ground. But before he could really think things through, he said, “I want to know you better, not the Savage Mockingbird or whatever dramatic name it is that people call you. I’ve let slip who I am under all this bullshit. I want to know who you are under yours.”

Yuri raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a question, Sylvain.”

“I guess the question is if you will let me.”

To his surprise, Yuri leaned his head lightly on Sylvain’s shoulder – not his whole body, just his head – but he was close enough now that Sylvain could smell the subtle, spiced fragrance that clung to his hair and skin. He closed his eyes and breathed in, distracted from the stars above.

Yuri was silent for a long moment then said, “You sure about that? You may not like what you find.”

  
  


> The private room, as the game continued:

“It, uh, appears you’ve won, Sylvain,” Claude said, referencing the rule sheets for the hundredth time.

Sylvain looked down at the two decks of cards, twelve dice, and pile of poker chips scattered across the table and scratched his head. “Really?”

“It appears so,” Hubert agreed reluctantly.

“One more round?” Yuri asked, polishing off his fifth shot of whiskey.

 _How high is his tolerance?_ Sylvain wondered. _He doesn’t even look tipsy! What kind of liquor do they drink in Abyss?_

Yuri caught Sylvain looking dazedly from the empty shot glasses to Yuri’s face and back to the empty shot glasses in confusion.

“You’ve never had Rose Swill before, have you?” he asked in amusement.

“I’m sorry. Rose what?” Sylvain said.

“There’s a tavern in Abyss called the Wilting Rose Inn, not so different from this establishment. A little cleaner, though. You might like it, if you can stomach seventy percent liquor.”

“Seventy percent?” Sylvain winced. “Fuck… Wouldn’t that just straight up burn a hole through you to drink?”

“Not if you do it correctly,” Yuri replied. “There’s a trick with a spoon and sugar.”

“Don’t try it at home without an expert,” Claude added.

When all eyes turned to him in astonishment he looked up from the rule sheet and shrugged. “What?”

Sylvain pointed out the obvious because someone had to and Hubert looked too stunned and intrigued to do it. “You don’t drink.”

“Not around you fools,” he said with a wink.

As they reorganized all the cards and dice on the table and started a new round, Sylvain slumped back in his chair, propping his ankle on his knee and folding his arms across his chest. Since he won the last two rounds, he was not particularly invested in this next one. The game was fast-paced and took a great deal of concentration to make sense of the absolute chaos of it. So far Hubert had won two rounds, Claude one, Yuri one and Sylvain two. 

Yuri seemed to be struggling a bit to keep up with the flow of the game, but Sylvain got the sense that he wasn’t as clumsy as he was giving the impression of being. He sensed Yuri had plans and Sylvain wanted nothing more than to be the catalyst for them.

“If Yuri or Claude wins this one, we still won’t have a victor and no one will get to have their free celebratory drinks before we call it a night,” Sylvain said. “And where’s the fun in that?”

“I shall just have to win to settle this then,” Hubert replied.

Sylvain smiled devilishly and said, “Or we make this more interesting.”

“What do you propose?” Yuri asked.

“All or nothing. We throw the scores out the window and have one last round to determine the victor so there’s no chance of ties. What do you say?”

“I’m for it,” Claude voted.

Hubert was the only one who had anything to lose but he seemed willing to risk his lead for the sake of upping the stakes and he nodded in compliance.

“Yuri?”

“Sure,” he replied indifferently. “Let’s see if my luck will let me catch up to you.”

 _Luck_ . Sylvain scoffed silently. _Goddess, he’s fun._

If those dice were loaded and Yuri had been hustling them this whole time like Sylvain expected, he now had the perfect chance to make a surprise comeback. Purely off luck, of course. 

  
  


> The bar, over Yuri’s victory drinks:

“‘All or nothing,’” Hubert huffed, paying the bartender and sliding a large cocktail glass over to Yuri.

“It was Sylvain’s idea,” Yuri protested, picking up the cocktail and sipping it happily.

“Hungry?” Claude said and set down a plate of sweet buns in front of Yuri.

“You sure know what I like,” Yuri replied. “Thanks, friend.”

Claude gave Yuri that vague smile of his then sauntered over to Hubert and leaned on his shoulder. “You know, our new friend told me something fascinating on our way over here,” he said. “There is apparently quite the library in Abyss. Have you seen it yet?”

Hubert perked up with interest and glanced at Yuri. “What kind of library?”

“Oh you know, this and that, whatever the cat dragged in,” Yuri answered. “Just stuff Seteth deemed not worth being in the Garreg Mach library.”

Sylvain had never seen Hubert look so excited in his life. 

“You mean things he has banned, don’t you?” Hubert asked.

Yuri smiled slyly. “I give you and Claude permission to see for yourself, as a gesture of friendship for the newly-formed alliance between the Ashen Wolves and the other houses.” He produced a key from his pocket and handed it to Claude with a wink. “Go wild.”

“Yuri, my friend, it has been a pleasure and privilege getting to know you,” Claude said with a grin, giving him a bow. He set another few coins on the counter and nodded at the bartender. “Give him another one of whatever he wants.”

Hubert practically dragged Claude out of the Knight Cap to no doubt race down to Abyss like a demonic beast was on his heels. Sylvain smiled and took a drink from his half-empty cocktail glass that he could have sworn was full a moment ago. 

_Slow down, old boy_ , he reminded himself. _The night is young._

“A gold coin says you find them making out between the bookcases when you get back,” Sylvain wagered. “Those two get off on secrets and mysteries. Banned books are for sure going to get them going.”

Yuri laughed. “I’m not going to bet against that.”

“You seem like a man who likes a good puzzle too,” Sylvain said, leaning closer and making intent eye contact. “Shall we play a game? If I can guess a secret of yours, you get to know one of mine.”

“Do you have many of those?” Yuri asked.

“Of course. I am a man of mystery.”

Yuri gave him a sideways glance. “Are you now?”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “You doubt me? Why? Are your spies so thorough that you have dossiers on all of us surface-dwellers hidden away in your secret library?” 

“Even if I did, you would be a quick read.”

His words stung and Sylvain muttered, “You and Claude and Hubert all think you’re so clever.”

“None of us are any smarter than you. We’ve just had to learn to reach your level with more obstacles in our way.”

“Ah, so that’s why you don’t like me. Funny – my money, crest and looks are usually my only redeeming qualities.”

Yuri took a long sip of his cocktail and said in a more serious tone than Sylvain had heard from him yet, “I don’t despise you for them, though, if that’s what you think.”

“How about we leave them out of things then? I’d rather talk of more interesting things with you than the tired old topics like that.”

“It’s never that easy, though, is it? To pretend they don’t affect every aspect of who you are? That’s why you lack mystery, Sylvain. If you understand Faerghus, it’s easy to understand you. You are the most logical product of your society and generation in every way,” Yuri replied.

Sylvain stiffened.

“Your glass is empty,” Yuri said. “Want a refill? My treat – well, technically Claude’s.”

“No. Thank you.” Sylvain gave him a cold smile. “I think I’d better be going. Wouldn’t want to be caught breaking the curfew rules in a disreputable tavern and betray all my noble Faerghus values.” He set down enough gold to cover his drinks with a substantial tip, grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, and bid Yuri goodbye with a wink. 

Slipping through the crowd, Sylvain made it to the door and stepped out into the cool night air. It felt good against his skin that was flushed from the hot, sweaty atmosphere of the tavern, but the refreshing sensation did nothing to chase away the bitter taste in his mouth from Yuri’s comment. It was galling to admit defeat and leave after trying so hard to get Yuri’s attention, but he wasn’t getting anywhere with Yuri anyways and he knew better than to get goaded into a conversation about his status or crest, especially with someone who obviously would only use the topic to rile him.

“Sylvain.”

 _Walk away,_ he told himself _._

Sylvain turned around to find Yuri standing in the doorway, giving him the most sincere look he had all night. 

“I’m not much for apologies. They’re worthless words anyways. But I will offer you an olive branch.” Yuri held out his hand. “Dance with me. Ever since I walked in and heard the music, I’ve been hoping to dance.”

_Walk away, Sylvain._

“I’d love to,” he answered.

He took Yuri’s hand and Yuri tugged him back into the tavern and led him over to the dance floor. They waited for a second for an opening into the whirling circle of couples, then plunged into the chaos. Yuri laughed as Sylvain spun him in a fast, tight circle then pulled him into his arms. He kept up perfectly with the quick footwork of the raucous commoner dance and even stood up on his tiptoes to be able to spin Sylvain.

“Dorothea and I have competition for the title of best dancers at Garreg Mach, I see,” Sylvain said smoothly but Yuri couldn’t hear him over the clamor of stomping feet, mugs banging rhythmically on tables, and the bard troupe singing at the top of their lungs.

He gave Sylvain a questioning look and Sylvain just shrugged. Flattery wasn’t going to do any good anyways. _Just shut up and dance,_ he told himself.

Heart pounding, spirits rising, he whirled around through the pandemonium on the dance floor, Yuri clutched tight in his arms, and he enjoyed the genuine look of delight on his face. In this moment there was nothing held back in Yuri’s manner, no mocking glint in his eyes or enigmatic twist to his smile. He was laughing and moving with effortless grace, provoking a joy in Sylvain he hadn’t felt in quite a long time. Yuri reminded him of Felix when he sparred or Mercedes when she baked or the unabashed joy Ferdinand exhibited when he sang with Dorothea and Annette.

 _Unironic_ , he thought. _That’s the word_.

It was a good look for Yuri. In fact, he looked more beautiful now than he did earlier before his makeup became smudged and hair tousled from the exertion of dancing. As soon as Sylvain noticed, he couldn’t stop noticing. Sure, he appreciated Yuri’s looks from the first moment he saw him. But now… now he was mesmerizing. Dazzling. Overwhelming.

Sylvain caught himself staring and immediately realized with a sinking feeling that the liquor had finally caught up to him.

 _Oh no_.

Yuri put his hand behind Sylvain’s head and tugged it down so he could speak close enough to his ear that he could hear him over the noise. “Another drink?”

His breath tickled Sylvain’s ear and the feeling of Yuri’s hand on the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck right above the collar of his shirt stunned him.

He nodded and followed Yuri back to the bar. He knew he didn’t have Yuri’s tolerance. He knew he was hurtling towards disaster here and should have followed his instincts and left. He knew his personal curse was that he was as reckless as he was self-aware. But the only reply he gave the voice in his head pleading with him not to be reckless was _Fuck it._

  
  


> The bar, after Yuri was done laughing at Sylvain’s stupid-drunk attempt at poetry:

The hair on the back of Sylvain’s neck stood up as he felt a presence looming behind him and Yuri. He was a bit slow to react but he noticed after a moment that Yuri had stiffened and his hand had strayed under his cloak to where, if Yuri was anything like Claude and Hubert which Sylvain figured he was, there were copious weapons concealed.

Sylvain settled for the only weapon he had on hand at the moment: a disarming grin. Slowly, he turned around with Yuri to face the lurkers. Four large, armed, definitely-up-to-no-good men were all but pinning them against the bar with thunderous expressions.

“Gentlemen,” Sylvain said, trying with all his might to not sound drunk. “Care for an ale? My tab is always open to new friends if you care to drink and play some cards with us maybe.”

But all four of them completely ignored him, staring intently at Yuri.

“Never thought I’d catch the rat outside of his sewer,” growled one of them – a tall, Faerghan man in weatherbeaten mage’s robes who, although less physically imposing than the others, seemed to be the leader of the group.

“Bold of you to assume you have me caught,” Yuri replied coldly.

Sylvain glanced at the bartender who gave him a look that said _‘don’t you fucking dare let one of your friends start another brawl in my tavern!’_ which did nothing to alleviate Sylvain’s distress.

He opened his mouth to make another desperate attempt to diffuse the situation but he didn’t have a chance to speak before quite a few things happened far too rapidly for Sylvain’s inebriated mind to keep up:

The screech of a banshee spell instantly strangled by a silence spell.

Yuri ducking beneath a dagger and dodging another.

A piercing pain in Sylvain’s gut.

Yuri hollering, “Time to go!” and blasting back all four men with a wind spell while grabbing Sylvain’s hand and dragging him out of the tavern. 

Chaos held at bay only for a second by the door slamming behind them.

Blood. Sylvain’s blood. He clamped his hand over his stomach and winced.

His other hand was still clasped in Yuri’s and he allowed himself to be led frantically away from the Knight Cap. After a couple minutes, they hunkered down in the shadows of an alleyway to hide and Sylvain leaned against the grimy brick wall, breathing heavily and clutching his waist.

“We only have a moment before they find us,” Yuri whispered urgently. “You make a run for Garreg Mach and I’ll hold them off. They’re trying to scare me into fleeing back to Abyss so they can follow me and find the entrance. They probably won’t kill me. You, however, they might. So go; get someone to heal up that stab wound. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of my trouble.”

“What? No!” Sylvain said, shaking his head vigorously to clear some of the liquor fog from it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Go!”

“No! I’d never leave a friend alone in a fight. Are you insane? I’m staying.”

“You’re unarmed,” Yuri argued.

“Can you keep a secret?” Sylvain asked.

“What?”

He yanked his hand out of Yuri’s and closed his eyes. After a moment of concentration, he managed to cast a spell rune of reason magic. The complex pattern flickered in the air then flames leapt to life in Sylvain’s hand, licking hungrily at his palm but leaving the skin unburnt. He grinned.

“Don’t tell anyone but I’ve been studying magic in secret,” he said. “And it turns out I have a knack for it.”

Yuri looked dubious but also a bit impressed at the same time. “Can you control it? I don’t want to kill these men, just incapacitate them. I do try to keep the murder to a minimum in my business.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sylvain assured him.

“Here, hold still,” Yuri said and clamped his hands over the wound in Sylvain’s side, casting a hasty healing spell as the sound of pounding footsteps and frustrated voices broke the quiet of the village streets, growing nearer.

The sharp sting of his skin fusing back together made Sylvain gasp and his head spun a bit as Yuri was forced to break off the spell halfway through when their attackers rounded the corner and caught sight of them.

“Sylvain, just run. You-” Yuri began but Sylvain wasn’t listening. Drawing upon the magical energy burning inside him, he launched a fire spell through his outstretched palms that knocked back the two nearest thugs.

Yuri moved in a flash, drawing two gleaming knives and leaping forward to strike. Between their two attacks they were able to incapacitated both the forerunners and stagger another but the last – the mage – was not so easy to overwhelm. The orbs of violet flame he hurled at them were so swift Yuri only barely evaded them and it took every shred of magical energy Sylvain had to blast them back with spells of his own.

Sylvain learned at Zanado that fighting was nothing like sparring and an opponent who struck to kill was nothing like one who sought only to win. But thankfully he had sparred with Hubert before several times while learning magic and it was always up for debate in the Blue Lions class as to whether Hubert actually did aim to kill them during sparring matches, especially after the time he had responded to one of Felix’s persistent challenges by paralyzing him with a silence spell and leaning in to whisper in that chilling way of his, _“An accident in the training grounds is such a needlessly tragic way for you to die. But there is a certain poetic irony to it, isn’t there?”_

Sylvain had argued that Hubert was only trying to shut Felix up, which was honestly a pretty understandable motivation. But Dimitri had insisted on “ _having words”_ with Edelgard about how _“hostility creates an unproductive learning environment for people.”_

At any rate, Sylvain did not cower in the face of a few banshee spells flying so close as to singe through the sleeve of his clothes and leave trails of magic burns across his arms. He fought back fiercely, creating space for Yuri to attack and when Yuri finally pinned the mage back against the wall with a knife to his throat, Sylvain let out a triumphant, “Ha!”

“Who sent you?” Yuri growled at the mage. “The Scorpions?”

 _Exactly what does Yuri get up to in his free time?_ Sylvain wondered, watching in amazement. He did not know who the Scorpions were but oh boy was he curious now. He’d figured that the more salacious rumors about Yuri’s shady criminal dealings were nothing but idle gossip given how nobody actually knew anything about him for sure. It seemed there was some truth to the whispers about the Savage Mockingbird.

The mage laughed. “Scorpions? Don’t insult me.”

“Then who sent you?” Yuri demanded.

The mage’s eyes flicked to the street at the end of the alleyway then back at Yuri. “Someone who wants you dead for poking around in his business and snitching on him to the church.”

“I have no idea who you mean,” Yuri said. “So go crawl back to your leader and give him a message from me, yeah? Tell him that anyone who threatens me or my people ends up rotting in a shallow grave in Abyss for rats to pick at. And tell him that sending only four people and expecting that to be enough to catch me was just insulting.”

The mage smiled. “Good thing he didn’t.”

His gaze turned back to the street and Sylvain looked over as the sound of footsteps preceded a group of shadows, silhouetted by the halo of streetlights, that appeared in the mouth of the alley.

“Shit,” Yuri hissed and slammed the hilt of his dagger into the mage’s skull, knocking him unconscious. “Run!”

Sylvain counted about a dozen thugs in the second before he turned and followed Yuri down the alleyway, running as fast as his legs would take him. He was shaky from liquor and blood loss and the exhaustion of firing so many spells, but there was also something exhilarating about pushing himself to his limit. He so rarely sought to find out how much he was capable of. It was with some pride and satisfaction that he kept up with Yuri on their mad dash back towards the monastery, scrambling up over walls, racing through back streets and staying just out of range of their pursuers.

“Sylvain,” Yuri said, reaching down to help pull him over a fence. “You good?”

Sylvain’s blood-soaked hand slipped in Yuri’s grip and Yuri’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“Never better.” Sylvain grinned. 

Yuri kept tight hold of his hand as they ran and Sylvain let him, even though he didn’t need the help that much. 

“We can’t go through the main gates. If any of the knights see-” Sylvain began.

“I know,” Yuri said. “I’ve got you.”

When they finally reached Garreg Mach, Yuri skirted around the walls past the gate until they came to a small hidden door on the western side of the monastery that Sylvain had never seen before.

Yuri knocked frantically on it in a specific rhythm until a guard opened it up and said, “In a spot of trouble again, Mister Leclerc?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Yuri said, slamming the door shut behind them as they raced in. As Sylvain leaned against the door, gasping for breath, his head spinning, Yuri slipped some gold into the guard’s hand and smiled. “We were never here.”

“Whatever you say, Mister Leclerc. None of my business anyways.”

Yuri put his arm around Sylvain’s waist and led him away from the monastery walls, through the shadows behind the dormitories. Behind the greenhouse was an excellent hiding spot, sheltered entirely from view of anyone passing by, and Yuri lowered Sylvain down to sit on the mossy ground at the base of a tree.

“Let’s get you patched up,” he said.

Sylvain was too dizzy and in pain now to act cool and he leaned back against the tree trunk and let Yuri take off his jacket and shirt and set to work healing the gash in his side that had broken open again from the exertion of fighting and running.

“Goddess…” Yuri whispered as he pressed his palm against the wound and Sylvain felt the painful heat of healing magic seeping into his body. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you stay and fight. This is a nasty stab wound.”

“My own fault for being too drunk to react quickly,” Sylvain mumbled.

“Well, I share some blame in you being that drunk too. At any rate, I’m sorry you got dragged into trouble because of me.”

“It’s fine,” Sylvain said. “This is nothing. I’ve had worse.”

Yuri did not reply for a minute, too focused on healing. He worked his way across Sylvain’s body methodically, healing every magic burn, scrape and wound with gentle hands and careful concentration. At last he said, “You could have run. You don’t owe me anything. I’ve done nothing but be an ass to you all night.”

Sylvain opened his eyes and looked at Yuri curiously because he sounded genuinely touched. A little more energy had returned to Sylvain as the healing spells repaired his body and he was fully sober now, sober enough to say clearly, “It’s not about owing or wanting favors or anything. That’s not how friendship works.”

“Is that what we are now? Friends?” Yuri asked.

“Of course. Our bond has been forged through the fires of violence and death. I think we’re practically inseparable now.”

Yuri laughed. “I guess I don’t have much say in the matter.”

“None at all,” Sylvain said with a grin and Yuri smiled back at him with the first genuine smile he had given Sylvain all night, which felt like enough of a reward to be worth the ache of the wound still throbbing in his side.

As Yuri returned his attention to casting another round of healing spells, Sylvain closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. 

“Well, if your definition of friendship is needlessly risking your life, mine is always paying back my debts. So here you go, _as a friend_ ,” Yuri said and Sylvain felt him lean closer and smelled the fragrance of his skin and felt the warmth of his breath.

Then suddenly Yuri’s lips were on his – a soft, fleeting kiss hardly more than a brush of lips. It was over before Sylvain could even begin to kiss him back and when he opened his eyes in astonishment, Yuri had already resumed his healing spells and was ignoring Sylvain.

For a dazed moment, Sylvain wondered if he just imagined the whole thing. It wasn’t until he licked his lips and tasted the lingering hint of sweet lip gloss that he believed it.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, for once at a total loss for words. “Thanks,” he said, “friend.”

“Don’t mention it,” Yuri said casually without looking up at him.

  
  


> The rooftop, under the stars:

“I want to know you better, not the Savage Mockingbird or whatever dramatic name it is that people call you. I’ve let slip who I am under all this bullshit. I want to know who you are under yours.”

“That’s not a question, Sylvain.”

“I guess the question is if you will let me.”

“You sure about that? You may not like what you find.”

“Most people don’t like what they find when they get to know me, but you’re still here talking to me,” he pointed out.

“That’s strange. I think I like you much better after knowing what I know now,” Yuri replied. “Even if it makes you a little less…”

“Charming? Fun? Attractive?”

“Predictable,” Yuri answered. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sylvain reminded him.

Yuri yawned and relaxed against Sylvain. “Maybe we should just come back in the morning.”

Sylvain nudged him with his elbow. “I know you’re not tired. Don’t try to fool me.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Yuri lifted his head from Sylvain’s shoulder and turned away to stare out into the darkness. “What do you want to know?” he asked, his tone cautious and a little cold. But it wasn’t a refusal, nor a rejection.

“I want to know why you’re helping me. Honestly.”

Yuri nodded. “Alright. It’s not about you, to be honest. I have a… a mission I guess you could say. I want to help people I see who are suffering, whether that’s a peasant family starving to death or a rich boy with a crest being punished by the nobility. It’s very simple, really. I just want to ease as much suffering as I can in this cruel world.”

“You could do that in small ways, helping one person at a time,” Sylvain said. “Or you could do it on a larger scale by taking apart the systems that cause the suffering.”

Yuri stiffened then glanced back at him. Smiling flirtatiously, he leaned in close so his mouth was only a few inches from Sylvain’s. 

“Oh Sylvain,” he said, his voice husky and arousing but in a well-practiced kind of way that Sylvain instantly recognized. “Are you really going to ask me about politics when you could ask so much more personal questions? Don’t you want to know… _other_ things?”

Placing his palm gently on Yuri’s chest, Sylvain pushed him back and shook his head. “I’m immune to having my own tricks used against me.”

Yuri looked caught off guard and almost a little embarrassed for a second then he recovered with a laugh and grumbled, “Damn it. That’s one of my best weapons.”

“Yeah mine too. Now please, answer my question. It’s important to me.”

“Important to you, huh? Why?”

“Yuri…” 

“You hold a lot of power as the heir of Gautier,” Yuri replied. “Enough to stop me.”

“Or enough to make your dreams a hell of a lot more feasible.”

Yuri sighed in frustration. “Why do you think I play with loaded dice, Sylvain? I am not a gambler.”

“I’ve said a lot of heretical things tonight. I should think you wouldn’t be worried about me ratting you out if you have any similar sentiments.”

“You were distraught, for good reason. People say all kinds of things when they’re hurting.”

“It’s something I’ve thought my whole life, I’d just never… It didn’t feel possible to even put it into words. I tried to talk about it once with the professor, but I chickened out and ended up threatening them instead of all things.”

“You threatened Byleth?” Yuri said in disbelief.

“Not my brightest moment.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Cat’s out of the bag now anyways. So come on, Yuri. Answer the question. How far are you intending to go on this mission of yours?”

After a long and revelatory pause, Yuri answered, “As far as it takes.” His expression took on a hard edge, his eyes challenging as he stared back at Sylvain without wavering. “What about you?”

Sylvain understood that this moment was a crossroads and that he had better say his next words with care. He breathed in. He breathed out.

Yuri waited.

Sylvain swallowed nervously.

  
  


> Behind the greenhouse, once Sylvain’s wounds were healed:

“So I’m guessing these weren’t just people who you pissed off by hustling in a game of cards,” Sylvain said.

“Me? Hustle?” Yuri clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You offend me, Sylvain. I’m a good, upstanding student the same as the rest of you. And as a good student, I suggest you get to bed. I might have patched you up, but that wound is going to sting for a while. You should get some rest.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand, pulling Sylvain to his feet. Despite feeling a bit lightheaded still, Sylvain felt steady enough and his pain was mostly gone, except for the lingering ache that no healing magic could entirely quell. By no means did he intend to call it a night already.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Want to sneak into the dining hall?” Yuri suggested.

“And eat leftover saghert and cream? No thank you.”

Yuri laughed. “I’ll bake us something. My baking is as powerful as my healing spells.”

Sylvain followed him out of their hiding place and across the courtyard but as they went up the stairs to the dining hall and tiptoed towards the door, voices inside caused them to stop dead in their tracks.

Grabbing Sylvain’s wrist, Yuri ducked down behind a stack of barrels and tugged Sylvain with him. In the cramped space, Yuri was practically sitting in Sylvain’s lap and he was incredibly tempted to wrap his arms around his waist. With anyone else, he would have seized the moment to make his move. But he found an usual amount of self-control take hold of him and cause him to keep his hands to himself.

Whatever tenuous friendship was growing between him and Yuri, Sylvain couldn’t bear to risk it. Somewhere along the line, his motivation had shifted away from getting Yuri to end up eventually in his bed. And Sylvain realized with surprise that what he wanted now was just to know him better, in any way that Yuri allowed, with any boundaries and restrictions he wanted.

It was a strange idea, to be introduced to someone so bewitching and _not_ do everything he could to woo them. It caused anxiety to twist uncomfortably in his stomach.

 _This isn’t how it goes,_ he reminded himself. _You take what you can get and you leave alone what you can’t._

“Shit,” Yuri swore under his breath as the armored footsteps of two knights wandered around the kitchen, heading towards the door to the balcony.

“We survive death only to be killed by Seteth now for being out after curfew,” Sylvain murmured. “How tragic.”

“He won’t kill you, but he might chuck you down into Abyss with the rest of us criminals and reprobates,” Yuri teased.

“Well at least I’ll be in good company,” he whispered and when he saw a smile crook the corner of Yuri’s lips, he added, “I’ll have plenty of time to read through this library of yours.”

Yuri shushed him as the footsteps grew closer and Sylvain listened as the two knights stepped onto the balcony, passing right by them.

“Why should we have to go mop up the latest Gautier mess?” one of the knights was grumbling.

“I’m just saying that it’s fucked up to make a whole class full of kids take that bastard down! Bandits are one thing, but making some boy kill his older brother? What fucked up kind of order is that?” the other argued. “I’m not saying I want to go freeze my ass off up in Faerghus. I hope they don't send us along with the students. I just think they should send a different house if they’re going to send the students.”

“Miklan Gautier has been causing us trouble for years. As long as he’s stopped, I don’t care who it is who does it,” the knight insisted and Sylvain froze, listening with bated breath.

“That’s cold, buddy.”

“If you think that’s cold, you have obviously never met a Gautier. I served under the margrave for a while. His brat that runs around here might be an idiot, but his father? Real piece of shit that man.”

The knights reached the stairs and walked down, heading towards the marketplace to resume their shift of guard duty. As their voices and footsteps receded, Yuri exhaled a long breath and stood up. But Sylvain just slumped back against the barrel, staring numbly at the dusty stone floor.

“Sylvain,” Yuri whispered.

He didn’t answer.

 _Stop being a child,_ a voice in the back of his head ordered him. _Get the fuck up._

Sylvain’s vision reeled and his heart pounded and he wondered in an abstract kind of way if he was having one of the anxiety attacks he used to have as a kid. Wouldn’t that be funny? To have one right in front of cool and calm Yuri?

_Control yourself, Sylvain!_

His breaths came in short, staccato bursts that he tried to slow down but seemed powerless to calm. He became excruciatingly aware of what a cramped space he was pinned in and scrambled desperately to his feet, heaving for breath now.

 _Pathetic_.

“Sylvain.”

_Stupid! Weak! Pathetic._

“Sylvain, listen to me.”

At Yuri’s steadying voice, Sylvain glanced up from his trance and blinked, blurrily seeing Yuri staring at him in concern but unable to really focus on his face.

Yuri led him into the dining hall kitchen. Staring down at the floor with wide, faraway eyes, Sylvain listened to the voices berating him in his head and tried in vain to control his panicked breaths. Something warm was pressed into his hands and after a minute the soft fragrance of Seiros tea registered in his brain. He raised the cup to his lips automatically and took a sip.

“You back with me?” Yuri asked.

“Huh?”

“Sylvain,” Yuri said. “Look at me.”

He forced himself to raise his eyes to meet Yuri’s and to his relief, there was no trace of pity or annoyance in them, just understanding. 

“I should have warned you,” Yuri said. “But I was having fun with you tonight and was selfish. I didn’t want to ruin the night. Guess it’s too late for that now.”

The pieces fell into place in Sylvain’s mind and he took a long sip of the tea before saying in a numb voice, “The thugs were from him. You dug up info on Miklan for Seteth.”

Yuri nodded. “We have some mutual contacts in the underworld.”

“Have you met him?”

“I know most of what there is to know about Miklan, but no, I’ve never met him.”

Sylvain looked down at his tea, his fingers clenching around the mug so tightly he feared it might break.

 _Pull yourself together!_ that voice snapped at him and he almost flinched as if in anticipation of a slap. _You’re being pathetic._

Sylvain was many things. He had decided long ago that _pitiful_ was not going to be one of them. Taking a deep breath, he took stock of every sign of anxiety his body was betraying and forcibly shut it down. He stilled his nervously tapping foot, slowed his breathing, swallowed back the nauseous feeling in his throat and pasted a smile onto his lips. That smile almost hurt but after a moment he eased into it and his face stopped rebelling against the mask he normally wore so comfortably.

“Lucky you,” he said with a light laugh. 

_I can turn this around_ , he thought frantically. _I can smooth this over_.

They were laughing and teasing and possibly even flirting minutes ago. He could recover that so it wasn’t lost forever if he could just find a way to save face and brush past his mortifying anxiety attack. He hadn’t taken a knife in the gut for Yuri to lose all the progress he had made in their friendship by ending the night on this depressing note.

“So what are we baking?” he asked, opening up the cupboards and taking out the basics: flour, sugar, salt, butter.

“What are your feelings on snickerdoodles?”

“On what now?”

“Cinnamon sugar cookies,” Yuri said.

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds good,” Sylvain replied lightly. 

As he rummaged around for baking pans and Yuri looked for cinnamon, an awkward silence fell over them. Then Yuri volunteered, “My mother taught me to bake. It’s as important as knowing how to swing a sword or fire a spell.”

The first thought that came to Sylvain’s mind was that the only thing his mother taught him was to not talk back when his father was in one of his cruel moods and to take the cutting comments with a meek expression. But he was determinedly trying to not be morbid and miserable right now so he kept that observation to himself and said instead, “What’s she like, your mother?”

“Like me but more so,” Yuri answered, “and better. Much better. She’s… kinder, softer than I’ll ever be. But she can still outsmart anyone who crosses her, outwit anyone who tries to argue with her, and outshine anyone who stands next to her.”

“You seem fond of her.”

“Probably the only person I am fond of. I haven’t seen her in years, though.”

“That’s too bad.”

Again the silence. Sylvain glanced at Yuri who was looking away. Yuri glanced back and Sylvain busied himself with greasing the baking pans so as to avoid his gaze.

Another couple minutes of this and Yuri walked over and took the pan out of Sylvain’s hands, setting it to the side and standing in front of Sylvain so he could not look away.

“Look. You and I are both fakers. We bullshit our way through everything with a smile and a laugh. Let’s not do that now. You have a right to be upset. So be sad. Be quiet. Or talk. Whatever. Feel what you need to feel and say what you need to say, alright?”

Sylvain laughed nervously at Yuri’s alarming forthrightness.

“I have the feeling that me spilling my guts will just end up in more blackmail being written in that secret dossier you have on me,” he said.

“I’m not trying to get information from you. Not everything is a trick with me, believe it not.”

“Says the man with loaded dice,” Sylvain replied, raising an eyebrow.

At Yuri’s surprised expression, Sylvain added, “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Claude and Hubert didn’t notice,” Yuri said.

“Why do you think I proposed an all-or-nothing?”

“What would you get out of losing?” 

“Entertainment.”

“Hm. Well, I hope I delivered that at least.”

“You did indeed. This whole night has been quite entertaining.”

“You were stabbed.”

“Exactly. It’ll make for a great story in the morning. The ladies love a hero who got stabbed defending a friend,” he said with a smile, but he felt keenly how flat the joke fell and Yuri did not smile back.

Yuri turned back to the counter and busied himself measuring ingredients into a mixing bowl. 

Sylvain sighed. “What do you want me to say?” He meant to leave it at that but when Yuri didn’t respond, Sylvain’s fragile composure fractured and more words poured unbidden from his mouth. “You want me to tell you the tragic story of poor old Sylvain Gautier, heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Faerghus? Poor Sylvain, with the crest that makes every woman want his dick inside them in case they get lucky and end up with a crest baby and a place in the nobility… Poor Sylvain, with a family people talk shit about behind their backs but flatter and bow before to their face? My problems are laughable. Plenty of kids were despised by their fathers and beaten by their brothers. I did it with expensive clothes on my back, fine food in my stomach and every luxury I could ever want handed to me. Like you said, there’s nothing interesting about someone like me. I am the same as everyone else, just richer.”

 _Fuck_.

The second his bitter speech ended, Sylvain wanted more than anything to be able to take it back and unsay his reckless words. But he couldn’t turn back time. He could only stand stock-still next to the oven, still clutching the baking tray in his white-knuckled hands, and stare furiously down at the floor.

_Fuck!_

“You’re right,” Yuri said calmly without turning around to look at him. “You are the same as everyone else.”

Sylvain’s face burned with shame and he swore silently at himself again.

“Everyone suffers at the hands of the crest system and the nobility,” Yuri continued. “Looks like you’re not an exception. It fails even those it's meant to favor.”

“I’d burn the whole fucking thing to the ground if I could,” Sylvain muttered without thinking. “Fuck the crest system, fuck the noble houses, fuck the church for perpetuating this then sending kids to go clean up their messes. What are they trying to teach us? That if you mess with the system you get fucked?” He gave a clipped laugh. “As if we didn’t already know.”

“You’re not the first noble I’ve heard say that,” Yuri remarked. 

“Yeah, we’re all fond of shitting on nobility and our family’s legacies until it comes time to do something about it,” Sylvain said. “But Ferdie and Lorenz are never going to defy their fathers and risk disappointing them. And Mercedes is never going to fight back against her father’s control. And Felix is never going to abandon his title like he wants to.”

“And you? When they pry the Lance of Ruin from Miklan’s hands and offer it to you, are you going to take it?” Yuri asked.

“Of course,” Sylvain said. “It’s what I was born to do. But if they ask me to kill him, I won’t do it.”

Yuri turned around and looked at Sylvain finally, his gaze questioning but not judgmental. “They will order us to kill him like they did Lonato. You won’t have a say in it.”

“I’ve been told my whole life I don’t have a say in anything. I wonder if that’s really true,” Sylvain replied.

“You’d spare Miklan?” Yuri asked.

“I’d have him tried by a jury for his crimes, not slaughtered like a monster because the nobility think his existence is a bad look for House Gautier.”

“Oh the church won’t like that,” Yuri said. “Besides, for them a ‘fair trial’ is Rhea waving her hand and saying ‘off with their heads.’”

“Then maybe Rhea shouldn’t be the whole fucking judge, jury and executioner of Fódlan.”

Yuri looked around quickly as if checking to make sure they weren’t being spied on. “You’d better keep your voice down when you say things like that or you will end up in Abyss after all.”

“Oh? Is that why you’re down there? Said something heretical? I liked the rumor that it was because of a forbidden romance between you and some nobleman’s wife.”

“That’s a much prettier story than the truth,” Yuri said. He glanced around again worriedly then returned his gaze to Sylvain. “I know you’re just saying these things because you’re distraught, but for your own sake, keep it to yourself. If Lonato’s status couldn’t save him, it might not always be enough to save you. Don’t say things like that just to blow off steam.”

The implied accusation of insincerity stung Sylvain but he realized that if he was going to save face he should lie and go along with Yuri’s assumption that he was just mouthing off because he was shaken by the news of Miklan. It was the sensible thing to do. It was what Sylvain had done his whole life whenever he had let slip even a hint of these secret beliefs. 

But he had never spoken them like this before and now that he had heard the words come from his lips with such freeing and reckless honesty the idea of taking them back sickened him.

“I don’t say any of this lightly,” he replied, his anger calmed and tone deadly serious. “I mean every word.”

Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, then he looked away. Picking up the mixing bowl of cookie batter, he quickly covered it up and set it in the icebox. “It’s getting late. I think this had better wait til tomorrow. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He turned abruptly on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Confused, Sylvain followed him. Out of the dining hall and into the moonlit gardens Yuri strode purposefully, a destination obviously on his mind.

“Where are we going?” Sylvain whispered, catching up to him.

“To the library to talk to Claude and Hubert. We might be able to find a way out of this Miklan situation,” Yuri said. “You’re not alone in your views of the church. If anyone is going to help you, it’s them. They’re more radical than you.”

“Why are you helping me?” Sylvain asked curiously but Yuri did not reply.

They stole across the monastery grounds until they neared the professor’s quarters near the training grounds and the sauna. 

_Is this where the entrance to Abyss is?_ Sylvain wondered. _Under our noses all along?_

As they rounded the corner near Byleth’s quarters, Yuri stopped in his tracks and swore softly. The lights were still on in the professor’s quarters and silhouetted figures were pacing back and forth within. As they crept closer, Sylvain heard voices coming from within: Seteth and Professor Byleth, arguing about something by the sound of it.

“Shit. If we try to open the door to the elevator, Byleth will hear us for sure,” Yuri said. “We’ll have to wait a bit. It’s nearly two in the morning. They have to go to bed soon.”

“What do we do? Sit here?” Sylvain asked.

“No. We need to hide, but somewhere we can keep an eye on the professor’s quarters so we can see when they go to bed.” Yuri glanced around and took stock of their options. “Up here,” he said, jogging over to the scaffolding set up along the back wall of the Officer’s Academy for repairs that never seemed to get finished. 

Sylvain climbed up the ladders, following Yuri until they came to the roof of the academy classrooms. Grateful that wyvern training had overcome his fear of heights, Sylvain perched on the edge of the rooftop next to Yuri and kicked his legs back and forth, watching Byleth’s quarters far below them.

“Well, now we wait, I guess,” he said.

Yuri yawned. “However late it is when we finally get back to Abyss, I guarantee Claude and Hubert will still be there. The Shadow Library will take them weeks to dissect.”

“What’s in it?” Sylvain asked.

“Heresy,” Yuri said with a small smile.

Sylvain studied Yuri’s guarded expression in the moonlight and asked, “Why are you helping me? You don’t still feel like you owe me for the run-in with those thugs, do you? Because if I remember correctly I’ve already been paid quite handsomely for that service.”

“The situation with Miklan rubs me the wrong way,” Yuri said. “He needs to be stopped but sending the Blue Lions to do it is fucked up. I’ve seen the church do this too many times. I just want to stop it from happening again if I can. Don’t read too much into it.”

Sylvain wanted to press him on the subject, but he decided to drop it for the moment and accept Yuri’s half-truth. 

“How long do you think they’ll be arguing down there?” Yuri asked.

“Goddess knows. They don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.”

Yuri sighed and planted his palms on the rooftop behind him, leaning back to gaze up at the stars. “Well at least we have a nice view to pass the time.”

They fell silent, staring up at the night sky together, until Sylvain asked, “Yuri?”

"Yeah?"

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Depends on the question.”

“A real question.”

“Probably not.”

After all he had unintentionally shared with Yuri tonight, being shut down so unequivocally provoked Sylvain a bit. “How about this?” he said. “You answer a question and I won’t tell Claude and Hubert about your suspicious dice and cheating ways.”

“Blackmail?” Yuri asked. “Bold choice. I can respect that. Fine. What’s your question?”

Sylvain hadn’t expected the bluff to actually work. Having got further than he thought he would, he paused to consider his options. But before he could really think things through, he said, “I want to know you better, not the Savage Mockingbird or whatever dramatic name it is that people call you. I’ve let slip who I am under all this bullshit. I want to know who you are under yours.”

  
  


> The rooftop, once Sylvain reached his crossroads:

Sylvain swallowed nervously.

“I always thought there was nothing I could do to change things, that my generation would follow the same path as my father’s and his father’s,” he said slowly, forcing himself to choose each sentence with care. “But you and Claude, and Edelgard and Hubert… I can tell: you don’t just want to change things. Every young person _wants_ to change things. You guys… I think you actually are going to try. And I want to help. If our generation dares to challenge these systems that do nothing but make people suffer, maybe we could do it. Maybe we could tear them down. Or maybe they’ll just beat us back into line. I don’t know. But I want to find out,” he finished, “with you.”

Yuri gazed back at him, at a loss for words.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I could do a lot with the heir of Gautier helping me.”

Sylvain gave a nervous, breathy laugh. “Well, I might not be the heir of Gautier for too long if I go down this path. Do I still have any value to you and your cause if I’m just Sylvain?”

Yuri smiled faintly. “Yeah. A good friend is worth more than anything.”

Sylvain smiled back at him, his heart feeling strangely light. The phantom hand of anxiety that had been choking him ever since the news of Miklan eased its grip and he took a deep, free breath.

“Are you done with your questions for now?” Yuri asked, glancing away.

“For now.”

“Good. It’s been quite a night and it’s catching up to me.” He yawned and leaned his head back on Sylvain’s shoulder. “Keep watch for me, okay? I’m gonna close my eyes for a minute.”

He slipped his arm around Sylvain’s waist and nestled a little closer. Cautiously, as if touching something delicate and a little dangerous, Sylvain put his arm around Yuri and placed his hand on his shoulder. And after a while, he dared to rest his head against Yuri’s silky hair and enjoy the feeling of it against his cheek.

Even though it was cold up on the breezy rooftop and one of his legs was cramping and the fresh-healed wound in his side was aching fiercely again, Sylvain felt a pang of disappointment when Seteth finally marched out of Byleth’s quarters and Byleth’s lights turned off.

  
  


> In the Shadow Library, as the chess club reconvened:

“Good fucking Seiros, what happened to you two?” Hubert asked as they walked in to find him and Claude reading in the lantern light at a desk piled high with dusty, damaged tomes.

Sylvain realized how alarmingly disheveled he looked, for he had forgotten his torn, bloodied shirt behind the greenhouse and was only wearing Yuri’s coat, which was far too small to even button across his bare chest. “Uh… long story.”

“Coffee?” Claude offered, holding up a large thermos. He and Hubert had obviously drunk quite a bit of it already, judging by the manic energy in their twitchy movements and wide eyes.

“Thanks,” Sylvain said, collapsing into a chair at the desk and taking the cup Claude held out to him.

Yuri sat down next to Sylvain and stole his cup to take an experimental sip, grimacing at its bitter flavor.

“You don’t drink it for the taste,” Claude told him and Hubert gave him a hurt look.

“So I presume you two are here for a reason?” Hubert asked them. “I didn’t think Sylvain would dirty his fancy white boots coming down here for nothing more than a stale cup of coffee.”

“We came for a rematch,” Sylvain said.

“Regretting your all-or-nothing?” Hubert smirked.

“Nah, I just thought it’d be fun to switch things up, maybe play with each other’s dice, for instance,” he said.

Under the table, Yuri reached over and pinched his leg. Sylvain smiled wickedly at him and he glared, although a bit of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“We’re not here for games,” Yuri said, turning back to Claude and Hubert.

“Oh?” Claude said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of coffee.

“I have a proposition for you,” Yuri said.

“Oh my,” Claude said but Yuri ignored him.

“Your little chess club is a fun way to spend a Thursday night, but there’s a different game I’d like to play, one with bigger stakes and consequences. So Sylvain and I would like to propose a different purpose for nights such as these,” he continued. “I want our houses to work together on something, a common problem that we can’t solve alone.”

“You’re in a position of leadership,” Sylvain added to Claude. “And Hubert and I are in positions of influence with the leaders of our houses. With Yuri’s resources and wits, I reckon there’s not much we couldn’t do.”

“Alright. You have my attention,” Claude said.

“Go on,” Hubert said, setting down the book he was reading.

Yuri glanced questioningly at Sylvain who nodded in reply.

  
  


> Abyss, a little before dawn:

Hubert, who seemed to Yuri to be inhumanly unfazed by their sleepless night, returned to the monastery with the same calm, collected energy he had at the beginning of the evening, if not a little more.

Claude fell asleep slumped over a pile of books as comfortably as if it were his natural habitat. Having seen the state of his room, Yuri supposed it was.

And Sylvain paused in the doorway of the Shadow Library, rubbing at his waist and yawning.

Yuri hesitated for a moment, knowing he was about to break one of his cardinal rules. _I’ve broken quite a few tonight already. What’s one more?_ he figured.

“Stay,” he said quietly. “It’s a long walk back to the surface. You’ve pushed yourself to your limit already.”

“I don’t have Claude’s knack for sleeping at a desk,” Sylvain murmured. “I’ll just drag my ass back to the dorms.”

Yuri sighed and motioned for Sylvain to follow him. “Don’t be stubborn. Your doctor’s orders are to rest.”

Still, Sylvain hesitated. “No, I should…”

“Isn’t getting into my bed what you wanted?” Yuri teased.

Sylvain stared at him with an earnest look in his eyes, obviously too tired and overwhelmed from the unforeseeable events of the night to hold up any pretenses. “Yuri…” He trailed off awkwardly and looked away. Then he said, “Just to sleep?”

“Of course just sleep. I was only teasing you, Sylvain.”

Yuri turned away and this time Sylvain followed him, walking silently and stiffly. When they came to Yuri’s room, he didn’t comment on the stark simplicity of it. Indeed, he hadn’t made any comments about Abyss, much to Yuri’s surprise. Most nobles reacted with either pity or revulsion.

“Roll the dice to see who gets the floor?” Sylvain quipped with a bleary smile.

Yuri laughed. “You’re never going to let me live down those damn dice, are you?”

“Never.”

Taking off his boots and setting aside a couple of his hidden daggers, Yuri lay down and patted the sheets next to him. “No one’s sleeping on the floor, for fuck’s sake.”

Sylvain struggled out of Yuri’s too-tight jacket then collapsed next to him without protest and closed his eyes, still rubbing with a wince at his side. The wound probably still hurt him. He really had taken quite the blow. 

“It’s not exactly a feather mattress, but when you’re sleepy enough, anything’s fine, right?” Yuri said.

“It’s nice,” Sylvain mumbled, nestling into the pillow. “Smells nice. Like you.”

Yuri smiled and rested his head on the pillow beside him, still a little too awake to relax, unlike Sylvain who seemed to pass out almost instantly. As the rhythm of Sylvain’s breathing evened and he fell deeply asleep, Yuri found himself a bit mesmerized by the peaceful look on his handsome face.

Although he was perfectly capable of dismissing Sylvain’s good looks, it didn’t mean Yuri was entirely immune to them. That cunning, manipulative smile on his face when they first met had initially ruined any attraction Yuri might have felt. But this Sylvain who looked so peaceful and guileless, the Sylvain that had shown his pain and been brave enough to speak the truth of his convictions, the Sylvain that had pulled honesty from him in return somehow and spurred Yuri’s tenuous dreams into an exhilarating reality… Yuri was definitely not immune to that Sylvain. 

It was hard to believe how much his perception of the man had changed over the course of the night, but even more so it was difficult to wrap his head around everything else. When Yuri came with Claude to their little meet-up at the tavern, it was for only one reason: entertainment. He wanted to drink and be distracted from his worries for a while. Contrary to what Sylvain probably thought, he hadn’t gone in there to gather information or make allies or hustle them out of their money.

Everything that had happened… well Yuri didn’t really believe in luck, but he did believe a little in fate.

Closing his eyes, he tried to quiet his mind in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep before class, but his thoughts were racing too restlessly. 

Aside from Hapi coming in to crash in his room from time to time when she had nightmares, Yuri always slept alone these days. It seemed a necessary rule for his own safety. Even on the occasional romantic tryst, he never let anyone stay the night. And yet he craved the comforting presence of someone beside him.

As he listened to Sylvain’s soft snores, Yuri felt sleep growing nearer and less elusive.

In the morning, he would slip out of bed before Sylvain woke up. He would joke around and tease Sylvain mercilessly about sneaking back up to the monastery with bedhead and no shirt. He would fix his makeup, strap on his sword and go about business as usual in Abyss. 

But maybe in the evening, he would come up to the surface and bake those cookies from the batter in the icebox. Maybe he would meet some of the other students. And maybe he’d bring Sylvain back to have a drink with him at the Wilting Rose and play another round of cards. 

What he knew for sure was that whatever lay ahead, it was going to be different from what came before and that he was now one step closer to dreams that had felt almost impossibly out of reach his whole life. 

Sylvain shifted in his sleep and tucked a strong, warm arm around Yuri’s waist. For a second, Yuri stiffened instinctively. But he didn’t pull free. Instead he leaned back against Sylvain’s bare chest.

Yuri hadn’t expected to end up in bed with Sylvain Gautier at the end of the night. And even if he had ever considered it a possibility, it never would have crossed his mind that it might be like this: calm, comfortable… For a brief moment even Yuri allowed himself to think the word _intimate_ until it scared him so much he brushed it aside.

He didn’t do intimacy and neither did Sylvain. They were two birds of a feather in that regard. 

But for now, just for tonight, he would let it be. He would let his body relax against Sylvain’s and feel the way it seemed to fit so well. He would enjoy the soft sensation of Sylvain’s breath on the back of his neck as he unconsciously held him a little closer. And he would consider – just consider – what it would be like if he ever let it happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, what if Yuri got the Chess Club to work together? What if he got them to talk and realize their common ground? What if he essentially creates a fifth route in the game where you can achieve peace?  
> Too much to go into in this short piece, but.... WHAT IF?
> 
> Anyways, one last shout out: Thank you to my patient beta reader - my best friend Lily who writes the most beautiful, sophisticated Pride & Prejudice fanfic and yet still lovingly puts up with my obsession with anime boys. She was also instrumental in helping me craft the plot of Nightshade and Valerian and I owe her a lot!


End file.
